Man Dies of Cold, Not Darkness
by CamsthiSky
Summary: "Dick's been coming home from school to an almost empty manor for four days and they've been leaving later and later for patrol because Bruce has been absorbed in some case he won't let Dick take a look at. Dick's been eating alone while Alfred watches him with sad eyes, and Dick hates it."


Dick heaves out a sigh, shifting so that his face sits in his hands and his elbows are propped up on the ledge of the rooftop that they're sitting on top of. It's not a cold night for a patrol, but it's definitely cold for a stakeout, and Dick kind of wishes his cape were just a bit longer. His legs are _freezing._

Usually it's no problem, since all he really does as Robin is constantly move, but him and Batman have been sitting on this roof staring at the building across the street for hours. Still, he doesn't say anything. He's supposed to be able to sit here until the guy they're looking for shows up.

(Of course, that's only if he actually shows up tonight.)

Dick squirms again, blowing out another frustrated sigh, even as Bruce crouches ever stoically next to him on the rooftop. Dick thinks that Batman might even win against a gargoyle in a statue contest if he tried hard enough.

"Do you need to go back to the Cave, Robin?" Batman asks, and he's not even _looking_ at Dick. He's still got his eyes trained on the building across the street, and Dick would have gaped if Batman hadn't done it about a bajillion times before now.

So Dick gives a murmured, "No," and he stops fidgeting. The cold starts to seep back in as soon as he quits moving, and Dick can't help when his leg starts bouncing up and down, trying to warm his body back up.

"Robin," Batman says, and this time he does look over at Dick, and Dick can't help when he takes a step back and pulls his cape tighter around himself. Dick doesn't say anything, hasn't really said much all the whole night. He knows Bruce has noticed, but Bruce also hasn't _asked._ And Dick's not going to say anything without being expressly asked a question. "Is it important, or can it wait until after the stakeout."

Dick shrugs. Bruce's lips quirk down into a frown, and then he sighs.

"Go sit in the Batmobile until I've finished up here," Bruce says, his voice low and gentle. It's not a reprimand, but it definitely feels like one.

"I'm just cold," Dick argues.

"That's not the only thing bothering you," Bruce says, his frown deepening. "If you're not going to go to the car, then you need to focus."

Dick bites his lip. He's not good at this whole sitting still thing. It's far from his first stakeout, but he just can't keep his mind in the game this time. Maybe it's from what's been going on at school, or the fact that he hasn't really had contact with Bruce outside of patrol for almost a week, or a combination of the two, but whatever it is, Dick _knows_ that he's throwing Batman off his game. It's like his first year of training all over again.

"Yeah," Dick finally says. "Yeah, I can do that."

Batman's gaze lingers on Dick's face just a little longer, and Dick holds it up until Bruce looks back towards the building. That's when the tension bleeds from his body and Dick tells himself to focus. To get his head in the game. It's not cold. It's _not._

* * *

They get through the stakeout without incident. Dick focuses on what's important, and, of course, nothing important happens. They drive to the manor in silence, and Dick can tell it's grating on Bruce nerves to not have Dick constantly chatting the whole way back. Still, Dick can't make himself say anything other than a few one-word answers.

Finally, Bruce seems to have had enough, because he sighs and sets the Batmobile to autopilot. Then he pulls back the cowl and turns to Dick, his eyes searching Dick's face. "What's wrong?"

Dick hesitates, because he can definitely lie here, and he'd probably get away with it for the night, until Bruce cornered him tomorrow morning and forced it out of him. But there's a part of Dick that thinks if he stays silent tonight, he'll never talk about it. The problem will fizzle out until it becomes a part of life because Bruce won't have the time to give Dick any more attention than he's giving right now. Dressed up as Batman.

Dick's old enough now to understand the difference between Bruce and Batman, and how different their lives are. One has time for Dick—Robin—and the other currently does not. He's something in between right now, still somewhat Batman but leaning towards Bruce. Towards the man that Dick could call "dad."

So Dick gives in, because he doesn't want this to get ignored. He doesn't want to be cold forever.

"There are these kids at school," Dick says, keeping his eyes on his fidgeting hands. He'd just started high school at thirteen and it's hard being the youngest out of his peers while also being Bruce Wayne's kid. "They've been picking on me and Babs for a few weeks now."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Bruce asks. There's something off about his tone. It sounds almost—hard. Angry. "I could have talked to the principal and gotten things sorted out."

"Maybe," Dick says, "but I can take care of myself, you know. They're just words. I've heard worse on patrol, Bruce."

"You shouldn't have to," Bruce tells him, his voice going quiet, and Dick tries not to let his shoulders rise at the indignation he feels at that. "Why didn't you come to me?"

"You haven't exactly been around all that much," Dick says, but it's not harsh. It's just a statement of fact, because Bruce _hasn't_ been around for a little while. Dick's been coming home from school to an almost empty manor for four days and they've been leaving later and later for patrol because Bruce has been absorbed in some case he won't let Dick take a look at. Dick's been eating alone while Alfred watches him with sad eyes, and Dick _hates_ it.

Because he remembers this from when he'd first come to the manor a couple years ago. When Bruce had been obsessed with catching Dick's parents' killer. For Zucco.

Bruce doesn't say anything to that, because they both know it's true, and the Batmobile pulls into the Cave and parks. Neither of them move for a moment. Dick keeps staring at his hands, and he can feel Bruce staring at him.

"I guess I haven't," Bruce says after a moment, and Dick takes that as a cue to get out of the car.

He hugs his arms around himself, barely caring what he looks like to Bruce. Bruce knows now, and he just wants to get in the shower and warm up. Bruce is right behind him, though, getting out of the car and stopping Dick before he can head to the changing rooms.

"Look at me for a second, Dick," Bruce says, peeling Dick's mask off to reveal his eyes. Dick blinks up at Bruce's face and—Bruce almost looks _sad._ "I told you this before, but sometimes I just get caught up in a case."

Dick nods. "I know. It's my job to remind you how to have fun every once and a while, but you haven't even been in the _manor_ lately. It's not like I can just come down here and ask you to play cards or watch a movie. You're not here when I am."

Bruce frowns, and he studies Dick's face another moment. And then he pulls Dick forward, into an embrace, and Dick melts into it, even though it's awkward with the bulk of Kevlar and capes. Dick's breathing hitches slightly, and when Bruce sinks down to the floor, Dick follows him. Bruce's cape is tucked around them both, and Dick just lets himself live in this moment. The moment where Bruce is actually _here._ Hugging him and showing that he cares after almost a week of nothing.

And Dick? Well, even though the hug is clumsy and awkward, Dick doesn't feel so cold anymore. The hug and the cape have warmed Dick up much better than a shower could.

"It's been lonely without you here," Dick admits quietly into Bruce's chest, and Bruce squeezes him just a bit tighter. Bruce doesn't say anything, but Dick thinks that the hug is apology enough, saying what Bruce can't exactly say in words.

And yeah, that warms Dick right to his very core.

* * *

 **Title from Manuel de Unamuno**


End file.
